


Only time can tell what fools we've been

by skullage



Category: Block B, Winner (Band)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:38:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullage/pseuds/skullage
Summary: Seungyoon lets him in every time.





	Only time can tell what fools we've been

It’s been months since they saw each other last—since the last time Jiho came over, a little tipsy and more than a little lonely, when Seungyoon opened the door without a look of surprise because he knew, Jiho could tell, he just _knew_ Jiho would be in the neighborhood at a point late enough in the night that it was practically morning and that he would knock on Seungyoon’s door—but Seungyoon looks the same. He’s looked the same since he was sixteen, has been the same dependable, honest guy Jiho was in love with six months ago. When he opens the door he’s still in his street clothes, which today don’t look much different from his pyjamas, but Jiho can tell the difference. The holes in them aren’t from age but for aesthetics. His hair hangs almost to his eyes, and it’s black now, because of the drama, Jiho remembers, a beat too late. He looks good, like he’s been taking care of himself. He always looks good.

Tonight he’s there at the more respectable time of ten p.m., but Seungyoon pauses before he steps aside, an agonising three seconds of an indecipherable look that sinks its hooks into Jiho’s self-preservation instincts, his ability to turn and leave with his dignity intact. 

“I was just about to have a shower,” Seungyoon says, sounding bored, like he could take it or leave it. He’s never excited to see Jiho anymore, but that’s what happens after a break up. Jiho knows it’s just for show. He welcomes these visits just as much as Jiho likes to make them.

“I could join you,” he suggests, and his voice is too eager, he can hear it. Whatever. It’s not like Seungyoon doesn’t know that sometimes he needs the promise of this just to get through the day. It was the same when they were dating, and Jiho hasn’t moved on yet. Maybe he should. Cut the limb and start the healing process. But.

Seungyoon lets him in every time, and it drives Jiho as crazy not to be told no as it does to be told yes. He’d stop coming over if Seungyoon told him to leave, if he said no, but saying yes every time keeps Jiho hanging on instead of letting go. This miasmic period of _yes_ es and walled up emotions and only seeing each other when they get desperate fucks with Jiho in the worst kind of way. All the feelings he had for Seungyoon haven’t gone away completely, despite the layers of hurt caked on top of them, and every time he comes over he digs them up again.

Seungyoon shakes his head. “Hurts my knees too much. Come on.” He leads the way to his bedroom without looking back, and Jiho keeps his hands to himself until they cross the threshold. It’s second nature by now to grab Seungyoon by the hips and press up against him, kiss the back of his neck, reach around and feel how hard he is just for the promise of what Jiho wants to do with him. 

It’s just sex. That’s the agreement they have. Anything else is too messy, and it’s already messy enough, Jiho swinging by and Seungyoon coming over, trying to keep feelings out of something that feelings were invented for, as if White Day was an excuse for them to fuck the heteronormative rules of society while they fucked each other and not just a day to express what they felt then. What they no longer feel—at least, not in tandem.

Seungyoon groans and pushes his ass back into Jiho’s crotch as his hand reaches down to squeeze Jiho’s. “Fuck,” he says softly, a sentiment Jiho feels. He wonders if Seungyoon’s been with anyone in the last few months, if he’s had more than a sweaty fumble in the backseat of a cab, or if he’s been holding out for something real. 

“How do you want it?” Jiho bites the shell of Seungyoon’s ear, waiting for the telltale shudder that Seungyoon wants this as badly as he does. 

“Take your clothes off first.” Seungyoon turns around, his face mostly hidden from the glow of the lamp, the only source of light in the room. “That way I can give it to you the way you clearly need it.”

“You know me so well,” Jiho says, shucking his jacket, half-wishing it wasn’t true. If Seungyoon didn’t know him so completely he wouldn’t be back here again, looking for the smallest of comforts, kicking off his clothes while Seungyoon, not even looking at him, gets the lube and starts on his own clothes. 

It doesn’t take long. Jiho waits for him to do something, feeling foolish and out of place standing naked in Seungyoon’s room while he checks his phone, so he lies down on the bed. He doesn’t stretch out across the mattress for Seungyoon’s benefit, or his own; he doesn’t show off. He’s not interested in making Seungyoon interested in him like that again. He knows it’s not going to happen, and that’s not what he’s here for.

Seungyoon turns to him with a smile, tossing the lube on the bed, and follows him down, straddling his hips. Jiho’s hands come up to hold his thighs, feeling a rush at just the contact, and he strokes Seungyoon to get him all the way hard, smirking up at him. He loves Seungyoon’s body, the lithe lines of him, the hardness hidden beneath his clothes, his hipbones and his abs, and that probably will never change. “Thought you wanted to fuck me?”

Seungyoon rolls his eyes. “Okay then, we’ll skip the foreplay.”

He swings his leg off Jiho and rolls him over onto his stomach in two swift moves. Jiho takes the hint and gets on his hands and knees, enjoying the sensation of Seungyoon stroking down his back and over the curve of his ass. Seungyoon gets into place behind him and Jiho can practically feel the air vibrate with the inevitability of him getting what he wants, of Seungyoon touching him where he needs to be touched, fucking him how he needs to be fucked. 

He waits for the press of Seungyoon’s lube-slicked fingers but doesn’t get it. Instead, Seungyoon digs his fingers into Jiho’s cheeks and spreads them, licking into him, his tongue lathing over Jiho’s most sensitive spot. He collapses onto his elbows almost as soon as Seungyoon pushes his tongue inside. Seungyoon isn’t gentle with him, but wrenches the pleasure out of him in a way that would be punishing if it wasn’t so good, and it’s all Jiho can do just to moan into the mattress, gripping the sheets, feeling sweat form on his skin.

It used to be something more than a means to an end with them. They had over a year together, learning how to make each other feel good, getting it right more often than they got it wrong. It used to be that they enjoyed feeling each other, kissing for hours and taking breaks to fuck, and kissing again, and again. It used to be more than physical, but now the physical is all they have left.

If Jiho had his way now, the comfort would come from Seungyoon’s mouth on his, soft touches and intimacy, but he’ll take what he can get. Seungyoon rims him for God only knows how long, until he’s fully hard and leaking all over his own hand as he strokes himself. When Seungyoon stops, he grabs Jiho’s hand to still him and pulls it away.

“Don’t touch yourself,” he says, and the heat of his voice turns Jiho on even more. “I don’t want you coming just yet.”

“Okay,” Jiho says, and his voice sounds shaky even to him. “You better fuck me good, then. I didn’t come over here to be treated like porcelain.”

The slap that sounds in the room when Seungyoon brings his hand down on the curve of Jiho’s ass is as satisfying as the sensation itself, and Jiho arches his back, pushes back into Seungyoon’s crotch just to encourage him. 

“I know what you need,” Seungyoon says. “You want the vibrator tonight?”

Jiho shakes his head. “I just want you,” he says, before he corrects himself. “I just want you to fuck me.”

He feels the press of Seungyoon’s lube-slicked fingers before he says, “Wait,” and Seungyoon withdraws his hand. “I want to ride you.”

Seungyoon shrugs, like he really doesn’t mind either way, and the casualness of the way he sits back against the window and waits patiently, as if the passion they had during sex ended when the relationship did, sends a pain through Jiho’s chest that he can’t identify. Longing, maybe. He misses Seungyoon, and it’s obvious.

Jiho climbs into his lap and kisses him, a thing that Seungyoon has always been receptive to, even after they broke up, kissing back at the same pace, and clutching Jiho’s thighs. “I don’t need to be prepped,” Jiho says, as Seungyoon’s fingers tease him, “remember?”

“Sorry,” Seungyoon says, laughing a little, withdrawing his fingers to slick up his cock, “habit.”

Jiho doesn’t ask what he means when it was never habit for them after a while. He doesn’t want to think about Seungyoon having so much sex with other people that he forgets what sex with Jiho is like, so he sinks down on Seungyoon’s cock instead, relishing the feeling of being filled up in the face of the emptiness he feels inside. He doesn’t want to think about how Seungyoon was the second person to enter him like this, and the first person he liked it with, the only person in the world he trusted not to hurt him. He thinks about the sensations instead, being opened up, Seungyoon’s hands gripping his thighs, his skin on Jiho’s skin. It’s as close as they can be these days.

Jiho starts up a steady rhythm and rides him until until he comes, filling Jiho up until he spills out of him. Seungyoon gathers him up and tips them over, waiting until Jiho’s on his back to pull out slowly and retreat down the bed until Jiho’s cock is level with his mouth. It always was a favorite thing of his, in the back of Jiho’s car, in the shower, on the dorm couch at four in the morning when mostly everyone else was asleep and after Minho had invested in noise-cancelling headphones. 

When he takes Jiho into his mouth, it’s with a sweet sense of relief that warms Jiho all the way through his already heated body. He’s worked up enough that it doesn’t take long to come, and Seungyoon swallows all of him, licking him all over, licking his lips when he’s done. It takes a few minutes for Jiho to catch his breath, a few minutes of Seungyoon lying on his back beside him, but getting it back is his cue to leave. No staying the night. That’s another part of the agreement. 

After collecting his clothes and a full body stretch, Seungyoon walks Jiho to the door.

“This is the last time,” Seungyoon says, meeting his gaze. “It’s too hard, hyung, you can’t keep coming back here. I’m not letting you in anymore.”

“I know,” Jiho says, meaning he knows that, this time, Seungyoon actually means it. As Seungyoon closes the door in his face, the emptiness in Jiho’s chest only grows deeper.

—

Jiho knocks on the door and waits, no more than a minute, before Seungyoon opens it. He sighs and steps back to let JIho in.

**Author's Note:**

> still on twitter @ skvllage


End file.
